


Heroes

by RedShift_Star, Shine_Like_Neon



Category: Fable (Video Games), Fable 2 (Video Game), Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Adventure & Romance, And so much More..., Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Betrayal, Bottom Roman, Bottom Seth, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Foursome - F/M/M/M, Lies, Like..., M/M, Magic, Mild S&M, Multi, Polyamory, Smut, This Work Is Marked As Mature For A Reason, Top Dean, Top Original Character, Werewolves, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-03 07:35:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12743892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedShift_Star/pseuds/RedShift_Star, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shine_Like_Neon/pseuds/Shine_Like_Neon
Summary: Seth Rollins has an agenda to fulfil.Dean Ambrose has a loved one to save.Roman Reigns has a family to protect.And at the centre of it all, the Black Queen is preparing for the nightmare that threatens her, her family, and her country.





	1. Only A Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the start of my WWE-Fable crossover. Constructive criticism and kudos _(of course)_ are always welcome, so please: don't hesitate to share your thoughts, and I hope you enjoy the story!

**"Birdie...daddy's asleep** , and he said I had to sleep too, but I'm not tired yet." the little girl pouted, frustrated that her father had gone to sleep before she did...but secretly a little bit excited she would get to hear one of Birdie's stories: "Can you tell me a story to help me sleep?"

   

The finely dressed 'Birdie' looked up from the book she was reading, a book far too complicated for the little girl to care about, one black gloved hand holding her page as the other closed the heavy tome and she focused all her attention on the girl sitting opposite her in the carriage. The girl might have been scared, if she hadn't known within her bones that the perfect woman sitting opposite her would never, ever hurt her, no matter how badly behaved she was. She never even shouted, only ever shook her head and smiled...just like she was smiling tonight:

             

"What story would you like to hear?"

"The one about the Queen!"

The older woman smiled indulgently: "Haven't you heard that one before?"

"Not from you!"

"As you wish." Birdie chuckled, putting her book aside entirely to pull the small girl into her lap: "Once upon a time, there was a small orphan girl living behind a house with just her older sister to look after her. Their live was hard: but they knew they loved each other, and that was enough to get them through the burning summers and freezing winters. But then, one day, the girls met a witch: who told them that, for just five gold coins, the older sister could have her deepest desire fulfilled."

"What was the oldest sisters desire, Birdie?""

"She wanted to be a princess in a castle."

"Like me?"

"Just like you. But the man in the castle wasn't like your father - his mind was filled with sadness, so much sadness that there was no room for anything else. But the older sister didn't know this: so she decided her and her little sister would go around the city, earning their gold coins, so that they could buy the special artefact the witch told them would grant their wish."

"Did they earn the gold?"

"They did. It took them all day, and the little sister and save her sister from a bully - but that was how she made a new friend, the best four-footed friend a girl could ask for, so that was okay. After their long day's hard work, they returned to their little corner of the city with the magical artefact, and they were so excited they used it straight away!"

"They didn't even have dinner?" the little girl asked incredulously, big silver eyes opened wide in shock.

Birdie smiled at her innocence, and neglected to tell her that the girls didn't have any food for dinner: just as they often hadn't, merely shaking her head and affecting her own incredulous expression: "They didn't even have dinner! They were _that_ excited - but, when they used the special magic music box, nothing happened. The box just went poof."

"Poof?"

"It disappeared in a flash of bright light."

"Oh no!"

"But later that night, the girls were woken up by some men from the palace. They said that they had to come with them to see than man in the castle: and, of course, this is what the older sister wanted: so off they went."

The little girl looked at the woman with wide silver eyes: filled with excitement...but with a little fear: "But you said that the man in the castle was a bad man."

"He was a sad man." the woman corrected softly: "But, yes, his sadness did make him do bad things. Like shooting the little orphan girl's sister...and then her. She fell out of the window of the tower she had been taken to, down to the streets below...but there she met her four-legged companion: and the witch that would help her with the promise she made to herself."

Eyes a little teary, the little girl sniffled and whispered: "What promise?"

"The promise that she wouldn't let the sad man hurt anyone else."

"What did she do?"

"She healed. She trained. She grew strong. When she was old enough, she left the safe place the witch had raised her: and went out into the world to fix what the sad man had broken. She fought bandits, and killed Hobbes, and helped people make the world a better place. She helped fix two temples: she helped lovers reunite: she freed people who were kidnapped...and while she made Albion safer, the sad man was building his Spire: a tall, tall building that he could use to make his own deepest, darkest desire come true."

"What did he want?"

"He wanted control over life an death and everything in between. But the girl couldn't allow that to happen - because she knew that there was nothing but sadness in the man's head, and sad people do not make good rulers."

"Why not?"

The woman's own smile was far from happy - but with the way the little girl's eyes were blinking, the woman knew she wouldn't notice her lack of cheer: "Because their sadness makes them do silly things. So that's why the girl promised to stop the sad man from using his Spire to rule Albion."

"Is that - " the question was interrupted with a tired yawn, the girl blinking and shaking her head a little to stay awake: " - that how she became Queen?" 

"She had to find some friends first - the monk, the mage, and the - " the woman cut off when she saw the silver eyes of the girl's father watching her and warning her watch her language: " - mutineer, and then they had to make their way back to Spire, but then, yes, the girl defeated Lucien, and became the new Queen of Albion. And then she lived happily ever after with her king and their children."

"Yay..." the girl whispered happily, before finally succumbing to the sleep that had been pulling at her.

 

Smiling herself, the woman reached for the cloak she had removed when she had made herself comfortable earlier: tucking it around the girl and brushing a soft kiss to the girl's dark, curly hair. She didn't react as her travelling companion sat up slightly, or as the silver slits that had been watching her tell her tale opened fully once the little girl was truly asleep. She didn't have to raise her head to see that he was looking at her with an expression that would, to anyone else, be seen as impassive: but to her, was full of concern.

Nor did she want to.

His concern was wasted on her. She had no need for it, having been perfectly self-sufficient for more than half of her life at this point...but that had never stopped him. Nothing she had said had convinced him that he didn't need to care for her - and he'd assured her nothing ever would.

She wasn't really complaining, though.

   

"You've never told her that story before."

The woman merely shrugged, careful not to jostle the precious child resting in her arms: "It won't hurt her. It's only a story."

"To her."

"Isn't that what matters?"

       

The silver-eyed man shook his head at the woman's calm attitude - seeing right through it to her turmoil - but didn't push the matter. He knew she needed to conserve her strength: both physically and mentally. So instead of saying anything, he merely lifted her, and the child in her arms, into his own embrace: settling her comfortable across  his own lap and tucking her and the girl safely against his chest. They were all that mattered to him, in the end. And so long as they were withing his arms, nothing would ever hurt them.

He'd make sure of it.


	2. The Beginning

**Seth Rollins glared down at the assorted bits of nonsense accumulating on his desks** , almost growling in frustration.

     

_For Skorm's sake..._

   

He had been working for hours now - pouring over historical account after historical account: diary entries, official documents, written accounts of old folklore: but it had all been for nothing. _Nothing_.

All he wanted was one single bit of clear information about the tyrannical bitch the Black Queen - but all of this was uncorroborated, contradictory rubbish! Just as one account got interesting: it would say something that completely disagreed with a previous account, and it was driving Seth to distraction. Finding out the truth about the Queen's dark past was important! It was crucial to building the support for their revolution! Without it their movement was constantly met with chiding elders reminding them that the Queen had done a lot of good for Albion - but, of course, they were too younger to remember that.

If Seth was told one more time that he should blindly trust his elders, those elders were getting dumped in the river.

He was out of patience for their lazy complacency. It didn't matter how much 'good' the Black Queen had done in the past; she wasn't doing good _now_. Their society was going through a major upheaval, and instead of focusing on what _mattered_ , the Queen was focusing on something that no-one could or would define! It was unacceptable.

As was the fact that there was nothing he could find to give him anything to make the people turn against their monarch.

Seth was charismatic. He knew how to hold a crowd. His mentors, Hunter and Stephanie, had taught him everything they knew - and he had only improved on their designs. But even with all three of them working all the hours the gods' sent, it still wasn't enough. They needed something else, something that would give them just enough of an edge to tip the scales in their favour...and they were running out of time to find that 'something'. Although interest in their cause was still strong, it _would_ eventually start to wane if it didn't go anywhere. They could make all the arguments they wanted, present all the obvious truths that supported their cause that existed, make as many posters as they had the paper for, it would mean nothing if people became apathetic to them as they had to the Queen's tyranny.

Of course, Seth would never allow that happen. He had never given up in the face of adversity - and he wasn't going to start now. If he couldn't find something _provable_ , then he would find something _believable_. Most people didn't know the difference anyway, so it didn't really matter. And he already had a torn, scorched page in mind.

Rooting around for a few seconds, Seth snarled under his breath until his fingers brushed the charred edge of the document he'd had in mind, and he pulled it out of the pile it was in to reread it with a small, smug expression on his face.

   

  

_A Brief History of the Black Queen._

_Many rumours exist around the rise to power of Albion's Queen._

_Most insist that the Queen is a Witch from a foreign land: who killed the former ruler, Lucien, in order to take the throne. Others argue that she is something other than a mere human or Witch: a being emerged from the fabled power of Lucien's Spire, who has since taken control. Some consider her a dark Hero known only as Fearmonger: following in the footsteps of all Heroes, abusing her powers to rule the land. And fewer still believe that the Black Queen is actually the Hero once known as Gunslinger:_ _a Hero who was good and helped the people of Albion._

 _The Queen chooses to neither confirm or deny any of these accounts, speaking little of her history and removing many records of hers and Albion's past._ _But despite this is the case, after many years of careful research and account taking, I, Barnaby Fossilwith, have gathered as much evidence as I can, and have put together this account in the hope that, perhaps one day, the true and full history of the tyrant known as the Black Queen can be brought to light._

 _As far as many can tell, the Black Queen is the only being capable of casting strong and varied spells: the first being in centuries who has that capability - or at least who uses them in public. The first accounts of a similar ability go back decades before her reign began: with a young woman who grew up in the Bower Lake Gypsy Camp. Her name is not known, but she is believed to have become the beloved Hero Gunslinger. She helped many individuals, removing Bandit Kings such as Bower Lake's Thag: Brightwood's Ripper: and Rookridge's Dash: helping Giles the former Chief Guard avenge his wife and protect his farm, and assisting the Temple of Light with the Ritual of the Golden Oak. However, Gunslinger disappeared after winning the infamous Crucible, and was never seen again. The next Hero to make themselves known in Albion appeared over a decade later, the female only ever known as Fearmonger._ _Many say that Fearmonger greatly resembled the Hero Gunslinger: pale skin, Will Lines, and glowing blue eyes - but others argue that Gunslinger's face had been kind and full, with rose-hued cheeks and smile-lines. Fearmonger was notably thin, with a harsh face that many said had never known a joy. Much like, in my own opinion, the face of the Black Queen._

_During my brief interview with Albion's monarch, it became more and more likely to me that the Witch I was dealing with was quite possibly a dark-natured Hero. The feeling of power surrounding the tyrant was incomparable anything but the reported auras of the Heroes of Old, before the people of Albion righteously tore the Heroes Guild down. As was the feeling of disgust that the Queen held towards any below her station. In short, despite theories that the Black Queen is a conjurer from a strange land, it is my theory that her history can be traced back not just to the dark Hero Fearmonger, but also to the good Hero Gunslinger, and to the Bower Lake Gypsy Camp and the nameless girl who grew up there._

_And this book will explain how._

 

 

It was sensational, and it was so obviously bias, but it all sounded like it could be true. The fact that the Queen had had all copies of the book hunted down and destroyed, along with the author, only lent a feeling of honesty to the few surviving words. And that was all Seth really needed. The book may have been destroyed, but it's introduction would be more than enough to hang their narrative on. Stephanie would know exactly how to spin the information to their benefit. It may be sensational, and even completely unbelievable to someone like Seth: who had met both the figures mentioned by Fossilwith, and didn't believe for a second that either of them could have become the Black Queen.

But it didn't matter what he believed. What mattered was how Stephanie told the tale to the masses of Albion, and how Hunter capitalised on their interest. It was out of his hands.

Neatly copying the information onto a less fragile piece of parchment, Seth sealed the message with the blue wax that was the unofficial sign of their rebellion, as well as using his personal seal, before setting it aside to hand to one of the messenger children that did the rounds for all the revolutionaries. The job was out of his hands now.

     

_And thank Skorm for that._

     

Seth was more than ready for a night out. The Cock in the Crown pub was calling his name, as was the cheap booze they sold hand over fist. After a week looking for something to support his fight, Seth felt he was more than deserving of the night off. Especially when he was confident that he had found _exactly_ what they needed to finally win their fight. The revolution would be a success. Everything that they had worked for would come to pass, and the Black Queen's reign  _would_  end. Preferably with her death, and a new era of rulers on the throne.

And when they were, he was going to reap all the rewards he could get his hands on.

      

 

       

* * *

    

 

        

 **Dean Ambrose watched in silence as his target left his Bowerstone Old Quarter Town House** , swaggering with his usual overconfidence: and never bothering to check over his shoulder as he made his way towards the market square. A foolish mistake, in Dean's opinion, _especially_ for a revolutionary. It would get him beaten one day, maybe even killed...but hopefully not before Dean could make use of Rollin's unique skill set.

He might be a bit of a fool, but he was an unparalleled Tracker.

If rumours were to be believed - they weren't, but Dean liked to indulge his imagination every now and then - Seth Rollins could track people through forests, over mountains, and across seas. There were no barriers that could prevent him, no facts he couldn't ferret out, no person that he couldn't find. And that was exactly what Dean needed right now.

Dean needed someone found. Urgently.

Seth Rollins couldn't know that, though, because he'd only take advantage. The man was a villain: he may pretend to be a righteous and on the side of the angels, but he'd never done anything that didn't somehow benefit him. He wasn't the good guy. He was a self-centred prick.

But, then again, Dean was hardly one to talk. He was a bit of a bastard, too. Most of the people in Albion were, all things considered. Dean was just another dishevelled, down on his luck wanderer who care more for the things going on his own life than anyone else's. Which was why he blended right in when he claimed a table in the Cock in the Crown, no-one paid him any attention, and he could watch his target with ease. Seth Rollins certainly  _was_  a charming guy. He flirted with the bar-maid, and the land-lord, and the land-lord's son, and he got away with all of it with a care-free smile. Dean was actually a little jealous; he could've used that kind of charm when he was getting into trouble back when he was younger, but that didn't take away from how charismatic Rollins was. Because he was _extremely_ charismatic.

And liked the sound of his own voice.

The man talked and talked and talked. When he wasn't flirting, he was gossiping, and when he wasn't gossiping, he was loudly trying to spread his revolutionary ideas. The idiot. He was definitely going to get himself killed if Dean didn't intervene.

        

 _Time to make my presence felt_ , he mused, drawing the pistol from his belt: and firing a shot through the ceiling.

        

"Seth Rollins, time to move your ass if you don't want to get caught by the Royal Guards."

The man looked furious - but rose to his feet all the same: "What in the name of the gods' are you - "

"Chop chop, Rollins."

 

Despite growling in frustration, Rollins did what he was told and fled the pub - with Dean close on his heels. And though Dean had repeatedly though that the man was idiot, he did have the good sense to keep going: out of the main square, over the river, and even past the city walls. Maybe because he was paranoid about the Royal Guards, maybe because he knew Dean was following him and wanted a fight without drawing any attention to himself. Dean didn't really care.

He just kept following Seth until they were a good three or four miles away from Bowerstone, far from any witnesses, waiting as patiently as he could for the brunet to stop and turn to face him.

      

"What the fuck was that, then?" the Tracker whirled on him: brown eyes blazing with fury.

But Dean remained calm: "I needed to talk to you, man."

"So you fired a gun in a room full of civilians?"

"I'm not really a subtle kind of guy." Dean shrugged, grinning his most indolent grin. He knew it irritated people: and Rollins was no exception. But where most people would've drawn their own firearm by now, Rollins made a visible effort to calm himself and talk to Dean civilly. Unfortunately.

Unfortunately, Rollins managed to keep his temper in check far more easily than Dean would've liked: "What do you want, then, that was so important that you almost brought the Royal Guard down on my head?"

"I need your help. To find someone."

   

This was where Dean had to watch his words. He wasn't stupid, even if he did have his moments of madness, but he knew that he wasn't as smart as Seth Rollins. And he knew that, if he said the wrong thing, Rollins wouldn't let it drop. He'd use it against him - and, frankly, Dean was worried that then he would be backed into a corner he wouldn't be able to fight his way out of. Dean was a good fighter: physically, but verbally? Rollins could run laps around him. But Rollins didn't know that - and he was too wary to just assume that he was.

He'd learn, Dean was certain, but for a few minutes he would be on equal footing with the brunet. And he needed to make those few minutes count.

       

"I don't do that shit anymore. Tracking." Rollins shrugged: "It didn't pay well enough."

"You've never done any tracking work for me." Dean smirked: "One job, that's all I'm asking. And I'm offering you far more than what tracking work normally gets paid."

Rollins - for a split second - looked interested, before he carefully masked his expression: "And what is that one job?"

"I need you to find my sister." Dean announced: "She's just a kid - a little girl. She's been kidnapped by a cult who believe her to be some kind of vessel for their dead leader or some other insane shit."

"Lost child?" Rollins asked: "Why're you offering so much gold for such a simple job?"

"She's been take to Wraithmarsh."

Rollins choked...but his eyes were glinting with interest, just as Dean had predicted. Few people survived Wraithmarsh: it would seriously add to Rollins' respectability if it was known that he was one of the exclusive club...and Rollins was notably greedy: "How much gold are we talking?"

"Two and a half thousand up front.  Two and half thousand when I meet you to start the journey. Five thousand when you bring me and my little sister back alive."

 

Fighting to keep his mouth shut for once, Dean could watch the cogs turning in Rollin's head. See the greed glinting in the brunets eyes. Could spot the exact moment that Rollins decided to take up Dean's offer.

Thank Avo.

 

"You've got yourself a deal...whatever your name is. I don't really care." Rollins shrugged: "I'll see you tomorrow at the docks. Bring the gold. I don't accept promises or IOUs."

 

 _I don't really care_ , Dean thought.

 

He had the gold. He was perfectly capable of making it to the docks. And he wasn't afraid of Wraithmarsh. At least, not afraid enough to stop him from going to that godforsaken swamp.

     

 _I'm coming, Cassie_ , he thought as he finally started to head back towards the city with the help he needed:  _Just hold on, sis. I'll be there soon..._

 


End file.
